


Balloon Ride

by Serazimei



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Pre-Relationship, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:46:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26137573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serazimei/pseuds/Serazimei
Summary: Geralt only wanted to visit the Beauclairs wine fair with Jaskier. He was not expecting to run into a local inventor, nor for the terrifying contract that would soon follow.Well at leastJaskieris having fun.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 7
Kudos: 65





	Balloon Ride

**Author's Note:**

> Based on that one quote from Haruki Muramaki, who gave this advice to writers: "Everytime you write, ask yourself: Could this scene take place in a hot-air balloon? If the answer is yes then it probably should."
> 
> So here is my hot-air balloon scene.
> 
> I'm aware that those contraptions only really came up much later, but eh, this is a fantasy world, who cares about the timeline.

It had been easy to coax Jaskier out of the latest court he had promised to entertain. His loyal travel companion and best friend of eleven years always jumped at the chance of more adventure. This time however, Geralt had something different in mind. The year that they had been apart had given him nothing but shit to shovel and Geralt desperately needed a break.

A few years ago Geralt wouldn‘t have given into his urges like that, but a merchant he had haggled with for a pair of new gloves had hinted at a wine market in Beauclair and well… He blamed Jaskiers influence. Toussainty wine was the best. And Toussaint was a beautiful, currently peaceful country.

He only went to gather Jaskier because he would make them more money to buy more wine. That was all. No matter what Jaskier said otherwise.

„It‘s so sweet of you to have thought of me.“ Jaskier praised him for the fifth time that day. He had been overjoyed to find Geralt in his quarters after a night of performing, although he had chasticed his friend for being creepy.

He had been right over the moon, however, when, once on the road, Geralt had hoisted him up on Roach without a warning. He was now sat in front of him, squirming and fidgeting until Geralt had to loop an arm around him to stop his idiot of a bard from falling off the horse.

„For Meliteles sake Jaskier, sit still.“

„I can‘t! I‘m excited! This is the first time you sought me out Geralt! And we are going to a wine fair! In Beauclair! I‘ve always wanted to see that town. You‘d think with all those years of travelling under my belt I‘d have been there already, but no! I guess there will always be new places for me to explore. Have you been to Beauclair before? How is it? Is the city really as beautiful as rumours say?“

Geralt dragged him closer against his chest with a sigh, squeezing Jaskiers stomach in warning when he wouldn‘t stop moving. Poor Roach would have severe back pain if Jaskier kept this up. Really if they didn‘t need to hurry this much he would have let the bard walk.

„It‘s just a city Jaskier. Loud, bright and full of stinking people. The weather tends to be nice, though. And the alcohol is alright.“

Jaskier slapped his arm and made a small, enraged noise. „You heathen! Alright, as you have proven to have no sense for the finer things at all I will be the one to guide you around the fair and provide the wine! If we let you take the lead you‘ll just down everything the people will give you and end up drunk.“

„It‘s a wine fair Jaskier, getting drunk is the whole purpose of it.“

Jaskier sniffed up at him and crossed his arms. He couldn‘t really turn around, not with the way Roach moved and Geralts tight grip on him, but he still managed a somewhat ineffective glare towards his companion.

„My point stands.“

Geralt hummed at him, knowing he would loose this arguement. It didn‘t really matter, though. Jaskier _did_ have an excellent taste of wine.

It was pure luck that Jaskier and Geralt had both been close to Toussaint and with only about a days ride between each others original locations. With both riding Roach and only a few stops in between, they reached the capital of the country of wine right at the heighth of the festival.

Not even Geralts Witcher strength could have held Jaskier on the horse at that point. The bard squirmed right out of his grip like some sort of slimy fish and hopped of a still walking Roach.

„Jaskier!“ Geralt cursed, pulling a little too harshly on the reins to stop and demount himself. He gave Roach a few apologetic pats, which she retaliated by bumping his shoulder.

„Geralt!“

Jaskier hadn‘t seen the tender moment between horse and rider. He had already pranced off to the nearest booth and purchased two glasses of dark red wine. There was a radiant smile on his face, his blue eyes somehow even bluer than the clear sky above them and his red and yellow doublet shimmering in the bright light of the sun.

And still, despite the vision Jaskier made at that moment, Geralt found it in himself to scowl at him.

„We should find an inn first, get Roach settled. Then we can get drunk.“

„One tiny glass won‘t get us _drunk_ Geralt, don‘t be silly.“ Jaskier quipped back, smiling when Geralt took the offered glass. „It‘s just a little treat for the road. And that lovely lady that served it told me exactly where we could still get a room. This city is packed Geralt! It‘s a good thing I‘ve slaved away at court for the last weeks or else we might not have been able to afford any of this. What luck!“

Jaskier prattled on as he led Geralt through the masses, pointing out various stands and buildings, cooing over the beauty and complaining about the bland music. Geralt followed closely behind, the crowd, albeit clearly at least tipsy, parting for him and his horse.

Geralt shook his had, for the second time since their arrival, hooking a finger into Jaskiers collar to prevent the idiot from wandering off too far. He had no clue how Jaskier could be so quick sometimes. The speed at which he socialized and gathered information was sometimes downright frightening.

This time it happened to be useful information, too. They really did get a room in an inn close to the marketplace, even at a discount when Jaskier was recognized and promised a performance.

Once they had everything stowed away and taken care of Roach, they went out again. Jaskier was nearly vibrating out of his boots in excitement, flitting about like the songbird he was so often called.

He talked a mile a minute, his chattering a nice ancor for Geralts senses. He had forgotten how grating festivals could be on his enhanced body. Jaskiers brightness outshone everything around them, though. His smell, sight and sound a familiar and soothing presence that guided Geralt through the masses with confidence.

Soon the input from around them dulled to a tolerable point. After tasting at least twenty different bottles of wine, with several other alcoholic beverages in between Geralt was pleasantly buzzed and enjoying himself very much. The taste of the fine wines started to become muddled at some point, the only constant the slightly sour note that always got left behind on his tongue.

Jaskier hadn‘t drunk as much as him, most of the coin flowing into his self set goal of getting Geralt smashed and relaxed. He had still managed to get thoroughly tipsy though and had opted to lean heavily on Geralt, an arm curled loosely around Geralts shoulder, trilling rowdy songs and giggling like a little girl.

Geralt kept him steady with an arm around his waist, relaxed enough to allow the fond smile on his lips to stay.

But of course Witchers couldn‘t have nice things. Not for long. A crowd had formed somewhere at the edge of the festival and curious, Jaskier pulled them in that direction. As they drew closer the crowd parted for them revealing a big basket with what seemed to be a metal oven inside. A huge blanket was fastened to the basket with several sturdy ropes.

Next to the contraption stood a woman, who looked to be in her fifties, her neatly tied back hair streaked with grey and deep crows feet around her muddy brown eyes. She had just finished her presentation it seemed and Geralt could see Jaskier pout out of the corner of his eye. Of course Jaskier would be upset, he soaked up information like a sponge and being denied details on anything was considered the highest offense.

Geralt didn‘t need to fear the prolonged sour mood of his friend, though for before the crowd could disperse the woman threw her arms out and shouted: „Now who wants to try to ride along?“

Oh no, Geralts dizzy brain managed to think as Jaskiers pout morphed into a bright smile and the hand currently not occupied with clinging onto Geralt shot up.

„Here! We would love to!“

„Leave me out of this, bard.“ Geralt mumbled, but stepped with him towards the woman, who looked them up and down.

„Oh! A Witcher! And you may be?“

Jaskier tried one of those flourishing court bows, but gravity seemed to pull a little stronger than usual and Geralt had to stabilize his friend before he faceplanted into the cobblestone.

Rightening himself Jaskiers smile didn‘t dim and the flush in his cheeks could have very well been the alcohol. „I am Jaskier the Bard. Very happy to make your acquaintance Madam...“

„Alea. Thank you for taking this chance with me. I promise this adventure will not disappoint.“

„What exactly will this adventure contain?“ Geralt asked, frowning at the contraption behind the woman.

„Ah yes, you missed the show. Now this is a hot air balloon. The… third of its kind. I will fan the flames in this little oven and fill the balloon with hot air. Once the gondola stands we get in and see where the wind takes us!“

Jaskier hopped up and down „Amazing!“

Geralt was still unimpressed. „What happened to the first two?“

„Oh...“ she looked down for a second, flustered. „They crashed.“

„Hm. Have fun Jaskier.“

„Hey!“ Jaskier cried, latching onto Geralts arm as he tried to turn and go to the nearest booth.

„Witcher, wait! I‘ll pay you!“

Geralts shoulders slumped and he shook the bard off. „Why?“

„The crashes didn‘t happen just because of technical failure. The air is full of curious beasts. With you on board we will surely be fine.“

„Geraaaalt! Please! You owe me for all the wine, anyway. And we‘ll even get paid! Just imagine what the city will look like from above! I bet it‘s going to be magnificent!“

Geralt made the mistake to look at his friend. Damn those round, blue eyes. With a sigh he nodded. „30 Florens.“

Jaskier squealed beside him and Alea grinned. „Make that 30 Florens and a bottle of the finest wine this fair has to offer. You won‘t be disappointed.“

Geralt doubted that. With a deep suspicion and growing dread he let himself be manhandled towards the contraption and lifted the cloth as instructed by Alea. He only got a brief warning from her not to flinch back when she kickstarted the oven and a huge flame sprung to life blowing hot air into his face.

He had to admit it was a fascinating process to watch. After a bit Geralt was allowed to step out of the heated air stream and wait at the sidelines as the balloon filled with air until the gondola stood up.

Jaskier was the first to scramble aboard, wide eyed and grinning. Geralt followed after Alea and opted to stand close to Jaskier, already worrying that his friend could accidently lean out too much and fall.

He picked up Jaskier frantic heartbeat as they slowly ascended, the bard bouncing on his feet as he tried to take in everything at once. Geralts own heart was continuously picking up speed the further up they went, shoulders tensing, muscles coiling ever tighter until everything was locked painfully in place.

Wary he glanced up at the inside of the balloon, flinching as Alea adjusted the flames so they would jump higher. The balloon lurched upwards and Geralt gritted his teeth lest the small sound of fear escape him. Jaskier giggled beside him, as unafraid as ever.

„This won‘t catch fire?“ Geralt asked, hands twitching to tone the flames down himself.

„Not this time.“

„This time?“ Geralt couldn‘t help the way his voice came out strangled. He risked a look down and cursed. Fuck, they were too high up to just jump out. What had he gotten himself into? Why did he have to indulge Jaskier? He _knew_ that was always a bad idea.

Alea shrugged. „Didn‘t think about the possibility the first time.“

„First- You said your balloons didn‘t crash because of technical issues.“

„Not _only_.“ Alea corrected. „Relax Witcher. I‘ve got this. Just make sure no birds, or griffins or harpies get close.“

This time Geralt couldn‘t catch the whimper before it escaped through his mouth.

„Geralt look! This is an absolute marvel! It‘s like standing on the highest mountain, only without all the horrible climbing! Ohhh, fuck I think I‘m getting sea sick. But no we‘re up in the clouds… uhhh air sick. Do you think the people will mind- urghh.“

With a curse Geralt launched forward to steady his bard before he could tumble over the railing, frantically sweeping his gaze over the clouds to watch out for potential enemies. Some birds flew dangerously close to their balloon and Geralts grip on Jaskier involuntarily tightened, his free hand twitching towards his swords. Damn it he wasn‘t even wearing armour! This was supposed to be a relaxing day!

Next to him Jaskier gurgled and emptied out most of the expensive wine and sweet food onto the unsuspecting citizens below. Alea bent over slightly to watch it happen and hummed.

„Well some people are up for a surprise.“

Geralt shook his head, vowing to never, ever do anything Jaskier asked him to do ever again. Fucking humans. They were all crazy. Couldn‘t they leave the skies to beings that had actual _wings_?!  
Despite his inner rant they drifted lazily over the town and out into the wilderness, changing altitudes in a pattern Geralt didn‘t have the mental capacity to understand. Jaskier had rightened himself again looking pale but happy. He leant back against Geralt, who was still clinging to Jaskier as if he were an oversized teddy bear.

At least Jaskier was clearly enjoying the ride, as always giving no thought to the potential threats lurking in the sky. Further and further they went, the soft breeze their only companion. Jaskier was humming as he watched the scenery pass them by, utterly relaxed.

Alea was focussing on the oven, carefully measuring the flames and taking stock of the direction the wind was going. Geralt hated to ask further questions, but for once in his life he couldn‘t stand the lack of conversation.

„So… How are we supposed to get this thing back to Beauclair?“

There was a harpy cry in the distance making Geralt flinch and growl, which earned him an amused giggle from Jaskier.

Aleas eyes briefly travelled towards the direction of the sound before settling back on the Witcher that was cowering in her basket. „We‘re not, to be honest.“

„What?“

„Where are we landing then?“ Jaskier piped in, finally willing to be interested in anything else than the amazing view.

„Not sure. Where the wind blows us, I guess. I‘ll try to get us close to the city, but trying to land somewhere as crowded as the town square is a suicide mission.“

„Awww we‘ll have to walk all the way back?“

Geralt gave his companion a sharp look. „ _That‘s_ what you‘re worried about?!“

How was it that none of these two found any of this even the least bit concerning? Was he the only one with common sense? Or was he just not drunk enough for this shit?

Jaskier patted his arm in a way that was probably meant to be reassuring, but only managed to make Geralts blood boil. „Now, now it‘ll be fine you old grump. As long as we land on the ground everythings fine, right? The weather is nice, I‘m sure a short walk won‘t harm us.“

„You can drink and walk, too. I have two bottles tucked away here.“

Jaskier sent a radiant smile his way. „See?“

Madmen. He was caged in a death trap high above the clouds with two crazy people. Fuck. This is why he preferred solitude. At least when he was alone he could choose in which disasters to get envolved in.

„Can we please get down now?“

All three looked down to watch the treetops pass them by.

„Not yet. Just a little longer.“

A little longer… Fuck. They wouldn‘t survive this. There were all sorts of beasts in the forests. What if an archgriffin got them? There was another harpy cry and it seemed to be closer. Was this his punishment for wanting a nice thing?

„Geralt you‘re squishing me.“ Jaskier whined and wriggled, but Geralt didn‘t dare let go of him. Jaskier was taking this whole thing far too lightly. No way was he letting the idiot move around on his own. He‘ll fall off and get himself killed. Or fall off and some beast will catch him and carry him to its nest and- Damn he should really just stop thinking about it.

Jaskier huffed and leaned out of his grip as much as he could. The melody he hummed now resembled a sea shanty Geralt knew came from the Skellige islands, but when Jaskier opened his mouth to sing he replaced „sea“ with „sky“, which butchered most of the rhyme scheme. Alea let out a hysterical laugh and joined in, her voice rough and off key, grating on Geralts nerves and reminding him why he favoured Jaskiers camp fire performances, when it was only the two of them.

Geralt tried to focus on just Jaskiers voice, eyes sweeping over the sky and counting the seconds. He was somewhere in the thousands when they finally left the woods behind and had enough space for Alea to lower them to the ground.

He jumped out of the basket as soon as it thudded to the ground and barely held himself back from falling to his knees and kissing the earth beneath him. Jaskier and Alea followed him at a more sedate pace, chatting among themselves, thanking each other for the company and adventure. Geralt didn‘t listen, he was preoccupied with silently cheering that he was still alive. He stood there, breathing, the sun on his skin and wondered how he could have taken such simple pleasures for granted all this time.

He only got out of his trance like state when Jaskier appeared next to him, a bottle of wine in one hand and a small bag full of Florens in the other. He gently deposited the bag into Geralts hand and then looped his free arm with Geralts, gently nudging them both into motion.

„There my brave, daring Witcher. Let‘s get you back to town and ridiculously drunk as planned, hm?“

He didn‘t dignify Jaskiers amused drawl with an answer, only took the bottle from him after stowing away the bag and draining nearly half of it in one go before he could be stopped.

Jaskier snorted at him and took a far smaller sip making an appreciative noise at the rich taste. „Come now it wasn‘t that bad! You can‘t tell me you‘re fearful of heights I‘ve seen you climb towers before. And the view was something else. I think this one flight alone has given me enough song material to keep me busy for weeks! Not that I won‘t still follow you around, of course. You‘re my main muse after all.“

Bit by bit Geralt relaxed again as Jaskier droned on. It had been a good idea, walking back to the town. It felt nice to have the ground, solid and unmoving under his feet again. And the alcohol helped tremendously in winding down. By the time they arrived at the city gates again he was in a much more amendable mood, which meant that he didn‘t want to strangle Jaskier in his sleep anymore.

Before they could enter the town however, Jaskier spun around to him and blocked his way, smiling that little fox smile that always spelled trouble (for Geralt), eyes twinkling in a way that Geralt had come to associate with an incoming catastrophy.

„What?“ he asked, voice a bit rough from all the drinking and amplifying his usual stern tone.

Jaskiers smile only grew. „You know I‘ve enjoyed this ride with you. Maybe we could do this again, once they built those flying contraptions sturdy enough to be save, hm? Just imagine, gaint sky ships! Wouldn‘t that be a sight?“

Jaskier couldn‘t be serious. Which part of the concept of being high up in the sky with no means of escape and no hope of survival should the vessel crash could possibly be attractive? But then again Jaskier did follow him around, got his favourite doublets smeared with blood and monster guts, slept outside more times than in a real bed and stitched up Geralt after hunts even though wounds and blood made him queasy.

„Hm.“

His slightly affirmative conotation earned him a short Whoop from Jaskier and they both finally rejoined the festivities. Geralt watched attentatively as Jaskier flitted between the stands to squirrel away as much of the wines he could carry, shaking his head as something warm and light filled his chest.

He‘d really much rather stay on the ground. But he doubted he would be able to say no to another ride should Jaskier ask him again.


End file.
